The Enfiladed Man
by Ansuz
Summary: Hot Fuzz. Set in the year that passed near the end of the film. Nicholas/Danny.
1. Chapter 1

Warning: medical emergency, references to trauma, etc. Nothing really gory. These are realistic injuries, however. Just be aware.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hot Fuzz. (Damn.)

Inspired by Heart Shaped Box by Nirvana

* * *

_oo1_

* * *

Nicholas stood in front of the mirror. The water was running. A man returned his stare, dusty, bloody, and unfamiliar. His head hurt. He smelled sweat and smoke. His ears rang. The lights seared his eyes. It felt like a hand was pressing him through the floor. He bent over the sink and breathed slowly. Every breath sounded like a train in a tunnel.

He started shaking. Grief? Terror? It went too deep for feeling. So he stood there, shaking and gulping and not crying. He pressed his raw palms against his eyes.

Someone grasped his shoulder. He glanced in the mirror and saw a male nurse. His lips were moving, he looked anxious, but his voice was lost beneath the roar of air in his throat. Nicholas was led out of the bathroom and down the hallway.

Everything looked unfamiliar. He wasn't at the station. People surged towards him all atonce like ants spurting out of the ground. There were faces he recognized, others he didn't. The nurse pushed them aside and steered Nicholas into an empty room. It had plastic tubes and noisy equipment. The air crackled.

The nurse guided him onto the bed like a puppeteer. He was suddenly staring at the ceiling. A plastic mask descended and his breathing didn't sound so loud. The cold tickle of scissors travelled up his chest. His shirt fell away in grey tatters. He glimpsed his chest. It had a hard red stripe where the filing cabinet had landed. He could see lines where the handles had been.

All the frantic activity overhead paused. Six sets of eyes peered at him. He knew that look. He had been trained to wear that look. He struggled to absorb what was happening. He tried to sit up.

It was like taking off his headphones.

Pain. Blinding light. Choking. Hands on his skin. Alarms. _Panic_.

Nicholas tried to punch the nearest assailant. They were cutting off his pants. Tubes looped across his arms and chest. He jerked on the nearest one and nearly fainted. Electronic wailing filled the room.

"He's combative."

"Can someone please get that IV?"

"I'm not getting a pedal pulse in the left leg."

"—there's burns on both hands—"

"_Damn_."

Hands descended, pressed on his arms and legs and _ohgod_ it hurt. Their collective strength hammered down on him. He fought harder, squeezing his eyes against the humming lights overhead. Something was on his face. He couldn't breathe.

"Hold him down. We _need_ that chest tube. Is a theatre free yet?"

"I'll ask."

Someone touched his forehead, stroked his hair. "Nicholas. Nicholas, that's your name, right?" He opened his eyes to see a woman overhead. Her face was young and calm. He nodded slowly. "My name is Nina. You're at Buford Abbey Hospital. Do you understand?" He blinked slowly, then nodded again. The hands retreated. "Good. Okay, Nicholas. I need you to look at me." She withdrew a small flashlight and shone it in his eyes. He grimaced, but didn't resist. "Pupils are uneven," she remarked to someone over her shoulder.

Nicholas tried to tap her arm, but someone held them down, wrapped them in something cool and soothing. She caught the movement.

"Yes?"

He mouthed 'Danny' but Nina's brows furrowed in confusion. "Shh," she said, and stroked his forehead. Her gloves were warm and smelled of latex. "Relax Nicholas. Everything is going to be fine."

That's what he said when people were dying. _'You're going to be fine, ma'am. Everything is going to be fine.'_ Just like that. Her eyes were large and searching.

"Nicholas, look at me."

The ceiling swirled overhead, white then grey then black.

"He's crashing!"

Sirens wailed in the distance. Reinforcements had arrived. The day was saved. The movie was finished. He could finally just…

…_switch off_.

* * *

I hope that wasn't melodramatic. Bah. Any questions/comments, just lemme know. Feedback is always appreciated! 


	2. Chapter 2

Warning: medical emergency, references to trauma, sap etc.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hot Fuzz. (Damn.)

Inspired by _Cozy in a Rocket by Psatt_

* * *

_oo2._

_

* * *

_Nicholas disliked hospitals. There was something deeply frightening about them, something that made him feel small and naked. The staff had done everything in their power to save him, he owed them that, but they had cut into him; strangers handled his insides like tenderloin at the butcher's shop. He closed his eyes before his imagination went too far. His pulse beeped steadily by his ear. The mask over his mouth was wet and hot.

"Hello?" Doris rapped her knuckles on the door and peeked inside, bruised but cheerful. "You _are_ awake!"

"I am," he replied tiredly.

"Good, cuz you got a visitor." She leaned outside and whispered urgently.

"Oh?" Nicholas struggled against his muscle-warming medication. "I distinctly remember hearing my doctor forbidding visitors."

"Best she not find out then, hey?" She smiled irresistibly and vanished before he could protest. He sighed and watched when the door opened a second time. A wonderful, horrible shock went through him. Danny _alive_ in a _wheelchair_.

"Hey!" Danny waved, as if he might be overlooked.

"Alright benders," Wainwright peeked inside, squinting ferociously. He had eight stitches over his right eyebrow. "You got five minutes. Then we're outta here."

"Andy," Doris admonished, but she was grinning. "Alright you two, enjoy your little chat. We'll try and keep them nurses distracted." She winked and shut the door.

Nicholas chuckled softly, but grimaced and fell silent. "You look terrible."

"So do you," Danny parried, unsmiling. "I was all heroic and stuff. What did you go take a sea mine to the face for?"

"Sorry."

Danny pulled himself closer to the bed and shrugged. "Well, you didn't mean to, didjya?"

Nicholas laughed painfully. "I certainly didn't." After a contented pause, he asked, "how are you doing?"

"Well," he shrugged again, "could use a cornetto."

"Ha _ah_ ha, don't make me laugh."

"Sorry."

Nicholas smiled and closed his eyes. "Danny," he murmured, "how _are_ you?"

"Been better. I didn't really understand all that medical stuff they keep rattlin' out, but I'm alright now." He flushed under his partner's stare. "Somethin' about bullets and ruptured diaphragms." He hit his chest with a closed fist (and winced.) "Good as new. Which is more than I can say for you. What's your list, then?"

"List?" It took a moment to cop on. "Oh, ahm, the doctor hasn't come in yet. I woke up…" he glanced at the clock, "fifteen minutes ago."

"Oh." Danny's eyes studied Nicholas. "Hey, what happened to your hands?"

"I burned them."

"How?"

"When the mine exploded, a filing cabinet fell on top of me. The metal was hot, and when I pushed it off…." His brows quirked; the Nicholas version of a shrug. "I went looking for you."

"Really?"

"Ummhmm." Nicholas inhaled sharply and gave a start. "I'm sorry, Danny. They have me on something and I just can't keep my eyes open."

Danny's face fell. "I'll get Doris to smuggle me back to my own room." He grinned boyishly and wheeled himself to the door, opened it, and looked over his shoulder. "Hey, Nick?"

"Yes?"

"We're pretty hardcore, aren't we?"

Nicholas smiled faintly. "Yes we are."

A shadow fell upon the doorway. "I'm glad you two think so."

"Bugger."

"Detectives, _move_."

A white-haired woman materialized in the doorway, her face pale and smooth like glass. Her grey-green eyes darted to Sandford's finest outside. "Are you harassing my patient?"

Wainright sneer was palpable. "Yes we are."

She smiled and held the door open for Danny. "C'mon, then. Out you go. Sergeant Angel needs time to rest."

Danny waved cheekily. "Bye!"

"Bye, Danny." Nicholas frowned. "He wasn't bothering me."

The elderly woman nodded her head to someone outside. "Come back tomorrow." She actually winked, then stepped into the room and shut the door. "I know, Sergeant, but it's a bit early for visitors. You've had enough excitement." She flushed. "Goodness, where are my manners? I'm Doctor Lambert."

Nicholas exhaled heavily, something not quite a laugh. "Will Danny be alright?"

"Yes. Thanks to you, he's recovering quite nicely."

"Good."

"I'm afraid I can't say the same for you."

"Don't keep me in suspense, then."

Doctor Lambert stood near the bed. Her oval face was calm, but sad. "You have a concussion, and you suffered third degree burns on both hands and second degree burns on your forearms, as well as smoke inhalation. Your left knee, and most of the left side of your chest, was crushed. You sustained a ruptured spleen, which we removed, a punctured lung, and five broken ribs." She rubbed her hands together in professional anxiety. "When you entered the hospital, you appeared normal, which is why we suspected nothing. But once the adrenaline in your body subsided, you went into shock." She frowned and looked at the closed door. "You're what we call asplenic: you'll have a partially compromised immune system, and you're knee and hands will require physical therapy."

"But…Danny's alright?"

Lambert nodded. "He's fine."

"Good. Good." Nicholas nodded slowly. "How long have I been sleeping?"

"You've been in a coma for eight days."

"Oh." His eyelids fluttered. "I see."

Lambert leaned in close. "Would you like me to contact anyone? Parents? Siblings?"

"No, thank you." Nicholas closed his eyes. "I would like to be alone, please."

* * *

Aw, sad.

If you spot any typos/mistakes/OOCness or...y'know...you just want to flatter me, just R&R.


	3. Chapter 3

Heya!

Warning: references to trauma, sap, poor Nicholas etc.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hot Fuzz. (Damn.)

_Keep Breathing by Ingrid Michaelson_

* * *

_oo3._

* * *

"Alright, are you ready?" Roxanne smiled, her red hair and redder lipstick the stuff of fantasies.

Nicholas smiled tightly. "Yes."

She took the needle and gently stabbed each of his fingers. His left index finger jerked, as did his right thumb, but the rest of his fingers gave no reaction. He jumped when she stabbed his right palm, but not his left. She put the needle aside, all business, and gathered a bit of cotton wool.

"Alright," she said, "I'm going to pass this along each of your fingers. Tell me if you feeling anything. Ready?"

"Yes."

She slowly dragged the cotton across his hands. The results were the same: left index finger, right thumb, and right palm. After a long moment, Roxanne put the cotton aside.

"I'm sorry, Nicholas," she said. "I can't clear you."

Nicholas shook his head. "It's fine, ma'am." He looked at his hands, at the patchwork of grafts and tight, rubbery scars that used to be his fingers. "I can see the writing on the wall."

"Don't give up, yet." Roxanne straightened. "You've done well, given the circumstances. No infections, and you're range of motion is nearly back to normal."

"Yes, well, that's more of a credit to the staff than to me." Nicholas flexed his hands. He nearly clenched them into fists. "Thank you," he said softly.

"Nonsense." She picked up his chart and started writing. "You're a smart patient, which is always nice." She laughed quietly. "I was impressed with the gloves. That was quick thinking."

"I've taken a few paramedic courses," he admitted.

Roxanne met his eyes. "Yeah," she said and smiled. "It's surprising how easy it is to hurt yourself when you can't feel pain." She wrote feverishly on the chart and finished with flare. "There, now. We've checked your knee and your hands. Are there any other complaints?"

"No, no." Nicholas slipped off the bed's edge. "I'm fine."

It was a long process replacing the bandages. The grafts were still fragile and the scars had a tendency to weep. She wrapped them tightly, her hands slender and quick. He couldn't feel whether they were hot or cold. She watched him put on his black leather gloves with a complex frown. "Alright, I'll need you to sign these forms. I have an opening the same time next week, if you're interested. After that, you're free to go."

"Thanks. I would like that." Nicholas signed his name several times, and checked off the circumstances of his stay at the burn centre. He inhaled deeply and wrote his signature a final time, and handed the clipboard back to Roxanne. She double-checked, impressed.

"You're quick! Have you been strengthening your fingers?"

"I already had a stab wound." Nicholas smiled sheepishly. "It was a habit."

Roxanne nodded amiably. "That's very good. Not many can recover their motor control so quickly, Nicholas. Keep it up." She gave him a smile that belonged on the cover of a fashion magazine. "You're doing wonderfully."

Nicholas looked away. "Yes, well…." He stood up and put on his coat, eyes glued to the far wall. "Thank you for seeing me on such short notice."

"Not at all, Inspector. I know you have a long run from Sandford." She winked at him. "And besides, we don't get too many heroes down here, eh?" He flushed and zipped up his jacket. "Don't be shy! You've earned it." She laughed again and turned on her heel. "Have a good day!" She pulled the curtain aside and waved over her shoulder. Her hand created a long, graceful silhouette against the sunlight.

Nicholas frowned and walked in the same direction. While Roxanne took a left, he stopped at the main desk, turned in his forms, and walked straight down the hallway. Light gleamed in prisms through the glass doors. He winced as they opened, and raised his arm to shield his eyes. The sun felt warm on his face. The smell of car exhaust and rain, the sounds of traffic and the anonymous murmur of millions of people, and the sight of shining skyscrapers eased the tension thrumming under his sternum.

_London_.

The cab driver had waited for him. Nicholas waved at the driver, who nodded absently, engrossed in a newspaper. He slipped into the passenger street. "Thanks," he said breathlessly.

"Think nothing of it." He was deep African black with white teeth and a jarring Londoner accent. "I recognized you from the photo." He nodded to the paper. "Can I have your autograph?"

Nicholas smiled politely. "Of course." He took the pen and paper, and scribbled his name down. "There."

"Thank you!" The cab driver thrust the taxi into reverse and drove out of the parking area and into afternoon traffic. He was cheery, polite, and sincerely interested in Nicholas' work. He had a Danny-like enthusiasm that was hard to deny, and after a protracted, one-sided conversation, Nicholas began answering questions. They spoke at length about everything: the weather, crime rates, celebrities, music, and travel. Somewhere in between, he discovered the man's name was Bem, and that he liked him. The traffic outside crawled past, unnoticed, as did time and the taxi meter.

The train station loomed so suddenly Bem had to turn sharply without indicating. Several drivers honked angrily, teeth bared like tigers, but he only laughed. "Everybody is always in a hurry," he said, amused. "In Mumbai, this is nothing."

"Were you born there?" Nicholas turned, intrigued.

Bem smiled. "Oh, no. My parents moved from Africa to India, then to England. And then I was born." He gave another booming laugh. "Don't get me wrong, Mumbai is a good city," he gave wry look, "just not for me."

"Ah." Nicholas waited for the cab to stop and fished out his wallet. "I know how you feel."

"Thirty nine pounds, please." Bem accepted several notes with gratitude. "You seem like a Londoner, if you don't mind me saying."

Nicholas waved his hand. "Not at all," he said, and opened the car door. The press of vehicles and people was something he had forgotten, and he took a moment to absorb London's thick, frantic pace. Bem got out and opened the trunk, and carried his belongings.

"Good day," he said, and handed Nicholas his things. "Travel safely."

"Thank you." Nicholas grasped the handle of his suitcase stoically, and walked down towards the pay booth. He glanced back, but either Bem had already left, or his taxi had been assimilated into the dozens of other taxis idling along the street. He shrugged and went to pay for his ticket.

The day passed by slowly. The unseasonable morning sun yielded to grey skies by the afternoon, and Nicholas went through the same motions: board the train, stare out the window, exit the train, wait for an hour and a half, then board the next one. By then it was dark, cold, and rainy. He caught the first taxi out, driven by a standoffish middle-aged woman whose name he hadn't bothered to ask. After an excruciating forty-five minute drive, the sign of Sandford emerged from the murk, and the town's hazy lights rose into view.

She left him at what had been the Crown. Nicholas had asked her not to, but he was tired and sore and fed up. She unlocked the trunk, he gathered his own things, and paid her the exact fee without a tip. She gave him an evil eye, but honestly expected no different. He watched her drive away, and walked the two blocks to their temporary headquarters, what used to be the Swan. By the time he arrived it was 7:34 PM and he was exhausted.

Sergeant Turner looked up and nodded. "How're you, then?" Nicholas only sighed, which made him laugh. "Cell three's open."

"Thanks."

Nicholas made his way down the hall and climbed up the stairs. Cell three was actually his hotel room, and he had been sleeping there since he had been discharged from the hospital. The cottage wasn't ready, and there were no indicators when it would be.

He hung up his coat and sat heavily on his bed; released a slow, shaky sigh and rested his face in his hands. A soft knock broke the spell.

"Yes?" He stood up, flushed.

Danny opened the door. "Hey! You're back."

"I am. Look, I'm not in the mood for the pub—"

"'M glad," Danny hugged him. "It was borin' without you here."

Nicholas stiffened when arms surrounded him, uninvited. "Yes, well…." He frowned, but didn't pull away. Breath by breath, inch by inch, Danny's body heat softened the tension in his muscles. He closed his eyes and hesitantly returned the gesture.

* * *

I decided to write/post this instead of doing my term paper, which is over two months late. Ahhh well.


	4. Chapter 4

Warning: a bit of blasphemy, cornettos, angst, naughty insinuations…plot?

Disclaimer: I do not own Hot Fuzz. (Damn.)

I've finally decided that I'm going to do this as a picture book, like a series of snapshots taken every few weeks/months. Enjoy!

_Fishermans Blues by The Waterboys_

* * *

_oo4._

_

* * *

_**TESCO – COMING SOON!** blazed on the banner that hung across Skinner's old Somerfield. Its interior was once again lit up, but the décor had changed from green to blue and red. The parking lot was empty, but clean and freshly painted.

Danny took a healthy bite of his cornetto. "Did a good job on them bullet holes, hey?"

"Yes, lovely." Nicholas examined a scratch on one of his gloves. "When do they open?"

"Next week sometime," Danny murmured between bites, "or next month, I wasn't really listenin' when Tony told me about it."

"You were going into cornetto withdrawal." A cold breeze picked up and Nicholas put his cap back on, a smile hidden beneath the gleam of his visor.

"Well, I gotta drive into enemy territory to get 'em now, don't I?" Danny took another defiant bite. He watched Nicholas flex his fingers. "How are you doin'?"

"Fine." Nicholas shoved his hands in his pockets. "Ready to go?"

"Yup."

They walked back to the squad car. Nicholas fished in his pockets, then flushed and walked around to the passenger side. "I keep forgetting," he muttered, and removed his hat. Danny shrugged sympathetically and manoeuvred inside. The engine started with a growl. He put the heater on max and watched condensation retreat across the windshield. Awkward silence wedged itself between them like slivers under a fingernail. Danny turned on the radio and hummed along with some meaty German pop. Nicholas watched the ditch race by, expression closed.

"Here we are," Danny announced, unnecessarily. He slowed down, pulled over, and reversed into an unobtrusive clearing on the side of the road. The outskirts of Sandford were marked by a new sign that gleamed silver in the morning sun.

"You're getting good at this."

"Really?"

Nicholas looked out the window. "Yes."

Danny smiled shyly and flicked on the radar gun. The road curved gently away from the hillside and stretched out of sight. He pulled the key out of the ignition and rolled the window down. "Smells like rain," he murmured.

"Does it now?"

Danny glanced over. "Are you alright?"

"Of course." Nicholas scratched a spot behind his ear. A car swept by. 29.

"People say you've gone a bit loony." Danny's looked at his hands. "You're not, are you?"

"No, I'm not a loony!" Nicholas' eyes crackled. "Who puts these ideas into your head? The Andy's?"

"No, no. Well, err, I mean everybody's sayin' it, really." Danny leaned away. "You always seem to be somewhere else. It's your first week back, dude. We're just worried."

Nicholas scowled. "I've been on leave for four months. It takes time to…" he looked at his gloves. "I appreciate your concern, but it's unnecessary. I'm fine. I'm just trying to get back into the rhythm, that's all."

A tractor plodded along. 12. Old Robbie Carter waved at them. Danny waved back.

"Heeey!" Danny turned, but his smile faltered under Nicholas' blank stare. "See? This is what I'm talkin' about. You've turned back into bloody Robocop."

"They called me that in London, too."

"It weren't a compliment."

"I know it's not," Nicholas snapped. "Jesus Christ, you can be so thick sometimes."

Danny withdrew into wounded silence. He frowned at the empty road, hand clenched on the steering wheel.

Mrs. Fletcher rode by. 8.

"Hello Danny! Hello Nicholas!" Her bell trilled. She smiled brightly.

Nicholas nearly choked on his own smile. After a tense pause, he lowered his head. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it, Danny." When this elicited no response, he glanced at his partner. Danny idly traced the insignia in the steering wheel. "You're not thick." Nicholas swallowed nervously. "It's just that…frankly I feel a little superfluous."

Danny looked up. "Super fluis?"

Nicholas almost smiled. "The NWA is gone, Sandford is safe, and I've basically been promoted to a desk job." He flexed his hands. "I'm _useless_, Danny."

"It's been a week, Nick. We're all adjustin'."

"Yeah. Sorry."

"Git." Danny's hand rested on Nicholas' shoulder. "You think anybody in the station will let you live that Kalashnikov story down?" He laughed warmly. "Heeey, c'mon now. What you need is a cornetto."

Nicholas laughed hoarsely. "We've just started our shift."

"Oi," Danny held his radio close, "me and Nick are gettin' some ice cream. Anybody mind?"

"Not if you bring me back somethin'," Wainwright replied immediately.

"Keep bringin' the goods, lads, and you can shag in the back of that car as much as you like."

Nicholas snatched the radio. "_Doris._"

"Like it's a secret," Cartwright drawled.

"Don't be rubbin' it all over each other," Tony added. Saucy laughter exploded over the static.

Danny pried the radio out of Nicholas' hand. "Knock it off," he said, grinning. "You want the ice cream or not?"

"Oh, can you get some jaffercakes, too?" One of the Turner twins asked hopefully.

"Ya, alright. Ice cream and jaffacakes." Danny hung the radio up. "Bunch of idiots." He laughed boyishly and eased the car into first gear. He glanced around, and turned right onto the carriageway. "Hey?" He glanced over, but Nicholas stared out the window. "They're just jokin' dude."

"Yes, I know."

After a long pause, Danny piped up. "They're just nervous, y'know?" He glanced over his shoulder, changed lanes, and passed a black and yellow smart car. "They can't handle the gloomy you."

"I'm not gloomy," Nicholas replied with a hint of irritation. "My private life is none of their concern."

"You know you live in Sandford, right?"

"Mm." A Toyota made as if to pass them, then caught their markings and backed off. "When is that new constable coming?"

Danny shrugged. "Dunno."

The rest of the drive passed in silence. Clouds gathered overhead, and by the time they reached Buford Abbey, rain pelted the windshield and Danny set the wipers to a brisk pace. The megamart store loomed out of the mist, its bold blue letters lit up the parking lot. Other people had had the same idea. There wasn't a spot to be had within thirty feet of the store. Danny sighed and parked at the far end, his eyes fixed on the overcast sky.

"We can use a handicap space," Nicholas offered with an awkward smile.

Danny gently bumped Nicholas' jaw with his knuckles. "Chin up." He opened the door and stepped out. "You gonna stay in here?"

Nicholas hesitated. "No, of course not." He got out, but winced when he had to bend his left knee. He walked slowly with a noticeable limp, and because Danny was his partner, he matched the pace. By the time they entered the megamart, they were both sopping wet.

Danny shook himself off like a puppy. "Can you believe that? Half an hour's drive and we're practically swimmin' to the shop." He fished out his notebook and flipped it open. "Well…seein' as how we're here, might as well get stuff for your party."

"My party?"

"Nobody told you?" Danny was all innocence. "You're housewarming party. You just moved into your cottage, thought we'd have a bit of fun."

Nicholas looked fit to scream. "Danny, this is not the…"he looked at the notebook, "did you write a grocery list?"

"Ya." Danny grinned in his disarming way. "Most important piece of equipment, Nick. You taught me that."

"For police work," Nicholas chastised, which only made Danny's grin widen. "You're not even listening to me."

"Course I am." Danny hung his arm around Nicholas' thin shoulders and guided them to the first aisle: fruits and vegetables. "Now, Doris needs potatoes for her homemade fries." An abandoned shopping cart sat next to a mountain of tomatoes and berries, which he pushed with his free hand. "Perfect! We can really get down to business."

"I do not approve, Sergeant." Nicholas' face was severe. "This is blatantly irresponsible."

Danny stopped by a stack of potatoes. "Better not tell the chief then, hey?"

* * *

R&R if you want. Don't if ya don't.


	5. Chapter 5

Warning: a small bit of swearing, sexual innuendoes, drunken behaviour, sap, and sexy misuse of Nicholas' muscles.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hot Fuzz. (Damn.)

Yarp, it's a house party. I couldn't find any research on alcohol intake + asplenia so I just went for it. If anybody finds out something to the contrary, I'd appreciate a heads up and a link. Thanks. :)

_Into a Swan by Siouxsie_

* * *

_oo5._

* * *

The music was loud, the beer flowed, and the bad feelings slowly washed away. Boxes lined the walls, but there was plenty of room to sit down, which was what they did. Bottles had accumulated into a mountain range that stretched from the kitchen to the dining room. Smoke wafted in grey-blue rivers, but the fire alarm had been shut off. The whole cottage smelled like cigarettes and booze, like a pub, which was great because the NWA affair had ruined the Crown.

Nicholas stepped over a box full of books, two shots of scotch in hand. He smiled easily and gave one glass to Doris and the other to Tony.

Doris grabbed his belt. "Twenty quid for a strip?"

Nicholas laughed incredulously. "I'm not _that_ drunk."

"I'll get you out of those pants yet," she replied, holding a wad of bills in her hand. Four beers and six guilt trips later, he was Doris' official eye candy. She had wriggled him out of his vest, jacket, and shirt. She was fully capable of tearing the rest off before sunrise.

Wainwright tossed Nicholas' peaked cap at his feet. "Go on," he sneered, cigarette in hand, "put it on, Nicholarse."

"Oh, _do_." Doris smiled like an alligator.

"Christ," Nicholas hissed, but obeyed. A flash made his heart sink. "Danny? Did you just snap a photo?"

"Nope."

"_Danny_."

Danny shrugged innocently as he put his phone away. He took a long pull on his beer and grinned at Nicholas' harried expression. "Stop lookin' so grim! You'll get frown lines if you keep that up."

Tony grinned devilishly. "You'll make an upstandin' pimp one day, Danny."

"Thanks!"

Saxon barked in agreement. Bob chortled with his eyes closed, arms crossed, face flushed and propped against a nearby stack of DVDs. The Turners sat on either side of him, prodding him with empty beer bottles, and tittered when this elicited absolutely no reaction.

Nicholas opened another beer and down a third of it in one go. He felt it bubble down his throat, heat his skin head to toe. Doris watched him with nothing short of amusement.

"Hey, Chief."

"Yes?"

"Have you ever had a one night stand?"

"Yes."

The Andy's laughed. Danny blushed. The Turners ceased tormenting Bob and watched with anticipation. Tony's glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose, but he didn't notice.

Doris was flummoxed by his reaction. "Really? Where?"

"A pub." He took another icy gulp. "In London."

Cartwright smirked. "And?"

"And now I prefer cranberry juice."

"Was it any good?" Doris asked enthusiastically.

"Was she hideous?" Wainwright demanded.

Nicholas finished his beer. "Um," he swallowed with effort, "I don't remember, exactly."

"Liar!" Tony shouted, and was joined by everyone else. "Tell us!"

"Nosy bastards," Nicholas retorted. He tried to appear sober and intimidating, but only looked spectacularly buzzed. "I'm not telling you anything." They booed and hollered as he picked his way through the disgruntled crowd and flopped beside Danny. After a tirade of curses and pleading, he was left alone. They sat cut off from the rest of them by a small alcove of boxes. They relaxed and enjoyed the spectacle everyone created.

"It was a bloke, wassinit?" Danny mumbled.

Nicholas stared at his empty beer bottle, lips pressed into a bloodless line. "How'd you know?"

"The face you made when Andy said 'she.'" Danny regarded him with bleary compassion. "Is that why you broke up with Janine?"

"For an inebriate, you are perceptive, Constubble Butterman." Nicholas closed his eyes and exhaled softly. "Missed her dad's funeral. Entirely my fault. The job and all that." He gestured vaguely. "So, I did the clichéd thing. Got pissed off. Got drunk. Got laid."

Danny studied his face. "Did somethin' happen? Was it really bad?"

"No." Nicholas smiled cryptically.

"Janine found out?"

"No, no, of course not." He leaned against Danny. "I just couldn't live with her anymore. I went back to the dorms. Was that a bit rude?"

Danny chuckled. "Kind've."

"Ah," Nicholas murmured, uncontrite. He rubbed his left knee and leaned back against the boxes behind him.

"Still wearin' them gloves." Danny rested his head on Nicholas' shoulder. "Ever gonna get rid of them?"

"No." Nicholas stiffened. "Bad enough I took my shirt off."

"Lemme see." Danny traced the pale scars that crisscrossed his partner's chest. Two vaguely square-shaped marks had been made by the defibrillator's paddles. One was clean and neat, an incision over the place his spleen used to be. A number of smaller scars littered his left side. They became long and pale and ropey down his arms.

"Whoa," Danny said.

Nicholas made a one-shouldered shrug. "What about you?"

"Me?" Danny looked bashful, but unbuttoned the top half of his own shirt. "A constellation of scars marked his sternum and belly, some long and slender, others jagged and star-shaped. Bullet holes.

Nicholas looked flushed and wet-eyed. He traced each scar with his left index finger. "This was supposed to be me you silly bastard."

"'M not silly."

Nicholas rested his chin on Danny's head. "If you died, there wouldn't be a point. In anything."

"That's what I thought."

"Mm."

They sat in silence. The music wasn't quite as loud, people weren't quite as close. The air smelled like pub and Danny felt warm and alive. Life was perfect.

"Nick?"

"Hmm?"

Danny inched closer, pressed their hips together. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Course." Nicholas pressed his lips against Danny's temple. "What's on your mind?"

"Well, I think that I—"

"Hey, Nick. Where'd you go?" Doris' voice floated towards them. "I still got that twenty quid."

Danny fell silent. After a long pause, he admitted, "I forgot what I was going to say," and started laughing.

Nicholas smiled knowingly. "Duty calls," he said breathily. "Don't remember this when you sober up, alright?"

Danny nodded. "Gotchya."

Nicholas reluctantly pulled away and stood up, and navigated the boxes and drunken police officers sprawled across his living room floor. "Yes, Doris?" The alcohol lowered his voice, made it deep and syrupy.

"I seen this thing off the telly." She sounded delighted. "Lie down. I'm gonna drink a line of shooters off ya."

"Ah."

* * *

R+R is like chocolate chips on a muffin: totally unnecessary but sooooooo good.


	6. Chapter 6

Warning: one or two fairly strong swear words, sexual innuendo and outright crudity, Nicholas being a tard, an OC, and kittens.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hot Fuzz. (Damn.)

Just a bit of character development, not just of Danny/Nicholas, but the team, the station, and Sandford as a whole. Enjoy!

_Pain by Four Star Mary_

* * *

_oo6. _

* * *

The door opened without warning. "…And here is Nicholas Angel. A bit of a local legend," Tony said proudly, and stepped aside to allow a pale, stocky girl to peer inside. Doris and the Andy's stood behind her.

Nicholas smiled thinly and rose from his desk. "Welcome to Sandford, Constable…?"

She walked into the room and shook his hand. "Meri," she said, "Meri Steele." She had a distinctive Celtic look: the dark hair and grey-blue eyes that gave the impression she was always staring. Freckles dotted her face like leopard spots and she wore an endearing, gummy smile. "It's lovely to meet you, Inspector."

"Just wait till she gets promoted to sergeant," Cartwright whispered conspiratorially.

Wainwright didn't drop the ball. "Sergeant Steele. Sounds like a good film." The Andy's shared a dirty laugh.

Meri regarded them calmly. "I prefer documentaries myself." She pretended to recall one from memory. "Especially about lonely mountaineers who scale massive erections of solid rock."

Nicholas suppressed a smile and sat back down. Doris laughed, put her arm around Meri, and guided her down the hall. "You and me are gonna get along just fine."

"Trollop!" Wainwright called, but grinned anyway. He turned his sights back to Nicholas. "Speakin' of which, we got you a housewarming gift." He nodded to Cartwright, who snickered and picked up a box that had been lying out of sight.

"It's from the lot of us," Tony added.

The box was put on Nicholas' desk. He regarded it suspiciously, noted the breathing holes and the worn soup brand. Cartwright opened the side and stepped back. Nicholas regarded each of them severely.

"These are cats."

"Ya."

"We know."

Wainwright leaned on the table. "Well, after your party, we figured you could use a bit of pussy hanging 'round the house." He laughed obnoxiously.

Two pale kittens lay huddled at the back of the box. Nicholas instantly recognized them as part of Liam Planter's litter, which were half Ragdoll. He had recently been chastised for giving them away in the square. They had piercing blue eyes and regarded Nicholas with utter terror.

"I don't have anything for cats," he protested. "Besides, we already have the hedgehog." He gestured to the cage in the corner, where Roger squinted nervously at them.

Tony crossed his arms. "It's just for _you._ Sent Danny to get some stuff during his cornetto run." He looked supremely smug. "Aren't you gonna thank us?"

Nicholas leaned back in his chair. "Thanks," he said flatly and rubbed his forehead. "How can I ever repay you?"

"A raise?" Wainwright suggested.

"I don't think so."

"Twat," Cartwright muttered.

"Looking for a demotion?" Nicholas stared at them, lips pressed together in a vain attempt not to smile. "You're on the right course, detectives."

"Can't demote us." Wainwright straightened.

"No?"

"Nope." Tony crossed his arms imperiously. "You don't scare us."

"Hmm." Nicholas tapped his pen against the desk. He opened his mouth to utter a threat, but grimaced instead. "Hello Danny."

"Oi, what's goin' on here?" Danny walked into the room out of breath. He rubbed his shoulder and nodded at the box. "Came for those." At Nicholas' puzzled look, he added, "settin' everythin' up at your cottage." He held up Nicholas' spare key as proof.

"Ah."

Tony and the Andy's exchanged a complex three-way glance and quietly slipped out of the room. The door closed with an ominous click that sent Nicholas' hair on end. He cleared his throat and propped his chin on his hands.

Danny glanced over his shoulder. "What's wrong with them?"

"I have no idea."

"Think they know why you've been avoidin' me?" Danny sat down on a nearby chair. He wiggled a finger at one of the kittens and smiled faintly when they hissed. "Is this about the bloke thing?"

Nicholas closed his eyes and went very still. "I'm sorry, Danny." He sighed and looked at the littermates huddled in the dimness. "I shouldn't have said that to you. I was out of line. It won't happen again." After a long pause, he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I, ahm…. I do have something to tell you, though. The Met is officially trying to woo me back to London." His expression became inscrutable. "I'm seriously considering it."

"What?" Danny lost all colour. "But…you just moved. And you got kittens. Can't move after you got kittens, man."

"Danny, _please_. It's just business." After a long silence, Nicholas sighed. "London is my home. It's not like I can't come and visit."

"That ain't true." Danny glared at him. "You just don't wanna deal with your shit." He threw up his arms. "Y'know, even when everybody else thought you were just some mad copper kicked out of London, nuthin' ever stopped you. That's why I thought you were such a great policeman—officer, whatever. Now you're runnin' away cuz you have a _thing_ for blokes."

Nicholas looked at the paperwork piled in front of him. "Sergeant," he said very quietly, "you will not speak about this to anyone."

Danny looked angry, then bewildered. "Well, ya. I thought you didn't want me to tell anybody."

"Of _course _I…" Nicholas met his eyes. "You haven't?"

"Course I haven't!"

"Then…what's this about?" He gestured to the kittens. "Everybody's been at me about my love life."

"You had a one night stand." Danny's eyebrows arched. "What didjya expect from them?" He looked at a spot on the floor. "Nobody knows that much about you, really."

Nicholas opened his mouth then snapped it shut and turned away, humiliated. "Oh." He swallowed noisily and looked at everything in the room except Danny. "I don't know what to say."

"Sorry?" Danny suggested placidly. "I'm not movin' to Lun-din?" He watched one kitten cautiously peek out of the box, light brown ears quivering. "I'll buy you a cornetto?" Nicholas smiled painfully and ran his fingers through his hair. "The party was a month ago. You been worrin' all that time?"

"Well…yes."

"Idiot."

Nicholas sighed and rested his forehead against his desk. "Yes I am."

Danny tousled his short hair affectionately. "You just don't get people, do you?"

"Unless their outlined by chalk."

"Oh my Gawd." Danny looked scandalized. "Did you just make a joke?"

"Maybe."

Danny rested his palm on Nicholas' neck. "You're not really movin' to Lun-din, are you?"

Nicholas inhaled deeply and turned his head, but didn't dislodge Danny's hand. The bravest kitten watched him intensely, head cocked, whiskers straining. He offered one finger, which it swatted playfully.

"I can't," he whispered.

* * *

You know the drill.


	7. Chapter 7

Warning: plot. Ooooh, scary!

Disclaimer: I do not own Hot Fuzz. (Damn.)

_How We Operate by Gomez_

Bad news!! I'm being abducted off to Europe for a month (just over three weeks, actually) so this will be my last update for a while. Here is my good-bye gift, it's a bit rushed but I like the issues it brings up. Please enjoy it.

* * *

_oo7._

* * *

Nicholas stood bent over the hood of his car, the blueprints for their new station pinned under his palms. He shifted idly and pointed to a particular spot, where the main hall branched into several tributaries, one of which ended in a large rectangle.

"Is that the interrogation room?" He asked, impressed.

"Yup." Danny's head eclipsed the sun, cast the station into shadow. "I came up with that."

"Well done."

"Thanks." Danny nibbled on his Time Out. "Things are gonna be better this time around, hey?"

A swift westerly breeze swept across the road and yanked at the blueprints. They both pressed their hands down on the rustling paper and their fingers overlapped. Nicholas made a rare, toothy smile and gazed at the plans drawn beneath their palms. It fussed and fluttered in the breeze like a trapped bird. His expression slowly evaporated, but he didn't move away.

"Yeah," he said after a moment.

Danny nodded and studied their usual hiding spot. The road to Sandford was quiet as usual, little stirred on the hilltop. He munched pensively on his chocolate bar while Nicholas murmured to himself, black gloves tracing every prophesized room and corridor.

"You excited?"

Nicholas glanced up. "Yes," he admitted. "It's _our_ station now, isn't it? Everyone gets their bit."

"Ya." Danny grinned, then turned and watched a nondescript black car emerge from around the corner. Nicholas made to glance at the radar gun, but instead of driving by the vehicle slowed and pulled into their shady little alcove. "Who's that?"

A man emerged, dressed primly in a dark Armani suit. He spared neither of them a glance as he walked to the rear door and opened it. A graceful pair of legs unfolded, followed by a graceful silhouette of a woman emerged from behind the tinted car window. Her pale blonde hair was wrapped up into a French bun and she wore a well-tailored blue blouse and pants adorned by several unobtrusive pieces of jewellery. A silver scarf was artfully tucked around her neck. She carried the subtle, intelligent air of someone who was truly wealthy.

"Hello Nicholas," she said, and approached with one hand over her eyes.

"Mum?"

"So you do remember me." She gently wrapped one arm around his chest, her head barely level with his chin. He returned the gesture awkwardly. "I was beginning to you think you had forgotten."

"I…." Nicholas' face betrayed a rapid triad of hurt, anger, and confusion. "Why are you here?"

His mother unfolded a paper that had been curled under her other arm. She flattened it across the blueprints. On it was the headline: **BIG CITY BOBBY TAKES DOWN SANDFORD CULT**. One of his old, angry London photos was there. She pointed to the end of the article, which read _"…Sergeant Angel survived the explosion, but remains comatose at Buford Abbey Hospital."_

"I just wondered what this was about."

Nicholas frowned. "It's been months since the NWA. Why are you here now?"

His mother looked past him and caught sight of Danny. She inclined her head and smiled. "Hello! I didn't see you there. And what's your name?"

"That is Sergeant Butterman, my partner."

"Call me Danny."

She stepped past Nicholas and shook hands. "My name is Delilah Angel. How do you do!"

"You mean…head of the big building company?" Danny grinned at Nicholas. "You never told me you were one of _the_ Angels."

"I'm not," he replied testily.

"Don't be rude." Delilah pursed her lips. "I'm sorry to be a bully, Danny, but can I steal your partner away?"

Danny shrugged boyishly. "I just need a ride back to the station then he's all yours." He withered under Nicholas' glare. "If that's alright?"

"It won't take that long, Danny." Nicholas's face became inscrutable. "Mind putting the plans away? We'll only be a moment."

Danny carefully gathered up the blueprints from underneath the old newspaper and sat in the squad car. Delilah mouthed 'thank you' before turning to Nicholas. She studied him for a moment.

"I should have been contacted," she said quietly.

Nicholas clasped his hands behind his back and stood like he was facing a drill sergeant. "It's done now, Mum."

Delilah ran her fingers through her hair. "I know what happened was…. Well, it takes time to heal." She suddenly looked at Danny, who watched them without pretence. "I came because I was worried about you. Your father is, too."

"As you can see, I'm fine."

She gave him a penetrating look. "Then think of this as an olive branch."

Nicholas shook his head and stepped back. "Thank you, but I have my own career now." His expression softened. "I simply wish to be left alone."

"You're happy?"

"I am."

Delilah nodded and said nothing for a moment. She gazed around the road, inhaled the country air shakily. "It's a nice place," she allowed, then glanced at Danny. "So, are you in love with him?"

Nicholas went rigid. "I beg your pardon?"

"With the sergeant over there." She smiled. "You seem so comfortable in your own skin now." At his incredulous look, she laughed. "I'm your mother. I can tell these things."

"Well, I—ahm…." Nicholas clenched his jaw. "I have work to do."

"I can see that." Delilah glanced at her chauffer. "I'll be staying in Buford Abbey for a few days." She smiled at his confusion. "Who do you think is building that new station of yours?"

"But, I checked—"

"Like I knew you would, so I went through one of my partners. I thought it might soften you up." After a long pause, she added, "I only wanted to see you."

Nicholas pressed his lips together and glanced at either end of the road, but everything was quiet. "Sandford is my home, Mum." A tremor of emotion passed through his face. "You can't be here."

The sun rose high enough to shine through the treetops. Delilah raised her head and sighed. "You are still so angry, aren't you?" When Nicholas said nothing, she reached into her pocket and retrieved a small white business card. "Here's my mobile number. I'll be having meetings all week." She studied his face. "If you change your mind, I'd love to hear from you." She reached out and touched his elbow. "Please, let me do this. Take care, Nicholas."

He nodded curtly and watched her walk back to the car. She waved at him before disappearing into the back seat, but he stood motionlessly and watched the car make a swift three point turn and vanish back around the corner.

Danny stepped out of the squad car and leaned on the open door. "Angel Architecture. _Man_." He stopped and stared at Nicholas. "Family's always a bit messy, isn't it?"

Nicholas turned the business card over and over in his hands. "This is the first time we've spoken in six years."

"You alright, then?"

"Remember what I told you about my uncle?"

"Ya."

"I blew the whistle on him." Nicholas looked at the shadows stretched across the road. "I thought it was the right thing to do. He was selling it to _kids_, Danny. But I…." He stopped, forced the tremble out of his voice. "But the rest of my family didn't agree. I haven't had any contact with them since. It's strange seeing her here."

Danny shrugged sympathetically. "Explains a lot." He watched a cow saunter across the field, idly flicking its tail. "What's the card for?"

Nicholas picked up the newspaper unfurled across the hood. "Damage control," he replied softly.

* * *

I'll be back on June 21st so hopefully I'll write another chapter shortly thereafter. Bye!


	8. Chapter 8

Warning: bit of swearing, men kissing, and other such nonsense.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hot Fuzz. (Damn.)

_Porcelain by Moby_

Hello! I'm back. Sorry about the delay—I was in a 'traffic collision' after the wedding. Nothing too serious, but the stitches in my arm are painful and gross. Luckily I've managed to plan out two more chapters after this one. We're almost done!

* * *

_oo8._

* * *

Everyone stood in front of the new station. Its brick walls were sun-baked and rustic, but the wrought iron gate didn't squeak. The transplanted ivy tentatively brushed against the first layer of brickwork. Flowers bobbed daintily in the breeze. The sky was a deep, calm blue.

"Agh," Nicholas rubbed his jacket sleeve noisily, "damn cat hair."

"_Nick_."

"Christ, Nicholarse."

"Way to ruin the moment."

Nicholas jerked his head up. "Oh." He flushed and cleared his throat. "I'm sorry."

Doris sucked in a deep breath. "Wouldn't think a sea mine blew it up, hey?"

Tony crossed his arms. "Shame. Makes a good story. Who'll believe us now?"

"Everybody," Danny said, and laughed. "We got Nick to prove it."

"Oh shag already," Wainwright spat.

"Gay," Bob added complacently.

Meri sighed heavily. "Thank God! I thought I would have to say something."

"Say what exactly, Constable?"

"Don't get all uptight, Inspector." She smiled brightly. "It's just that…." Belatedly, she realized she _would_ have to say it. "Well sir, there's so much tension between you two." She stared at him with her leopard eyes. "We all just assumed you were a pair."

"We are not," Nicholas replied stiffly.

"Not even a little bit?" Doris wheedled.

"No."

Meri leaned towards him and whispered, "you're hurting his feelings."

Nicholas gave her a cold look, but said nothing. He folded his hands behind his back and studied his new work place. Everyone's eyes slid across his face, and the less he gave away the more uncomfortable they made him feel.

"This was a difficult task to take on. You did very well, Fisher."

Tony preened. "Thanks."

"Well, shall we?" Doris opened the gate and sauntered towards the door. "It's all fine just lookin' at it, but I'm cold." She turned the lock and disappeared inside.

"Right behind you, Doris," Cartwright mumbled around his cigarette. Himself and Wainwright quickly followed, heads angled close together. Meri glanced meaningfully at Nicholas, then shooed Tony, the Turners, and Bob down the gravelled path. They quickly disappeared inside, but Meri's lingering gaze was unnerving.

Danny scratched his head. "I suppose they mean well."

Nicholas shoved his hands in his pockets. He stared at the ground, brow furrowed in thought. After a long moment, he looked at his partner. "Danny, I wouldn't do that to you."

"Do what?"

"Put you in that position." Nicholas shifted his weight onto his good leg. He stared vacantly at the station's brick facade. "I'm your superior officer and your friend. I wouldn't force you to carry my baggage as well as your own."

"Baggage?" Danny sidled closer, head bowed. "You like me, then?"

Nicholas laughed harshly. "Like? I suppose that's one way to put it." He shook his head. "Never mind. It's nothing you need to worry about."

"Y'know, it's almost been a year since we took on the NWA together."

"Yes, I suppose it is."

Danny sidled a little closer. Their shoulders touched. "Kind've like an anniversary."

"Yes." Nicholas glanced at him. "Where are you going with this?"

"Nowhere." Danny shrugged. "I was just saying…" he glanced at Nicholas' chin, "wait, what's that?"

"What?" Nicholas looked down.

Danny kissed him. It was shocking. Gentle. Bone-dissolving. His big, warm hands settled on Nicholas' ribs, rendered everything else utterly unimportant. Only his lungs kept time, demanded air with increasing urgency. They parted with a quiet _plip_.

"Danny…." Nicholas sounded groggy. "You kissed me."

"I did."

"Why?"

"Cuz I like you, too." Danny shrugged, a little embarrassed. "I don't watch them romantic films as much, but I know what goes on. Figured this was a good time for the kiss bit."

Nicholas stared at him for a long time. He finally dropped his gaze and fidgeted with his gloves. Danny covered both hands with his own, and when Nicholas raised his head the lines chiselled into his face had eased, if only for a moment.

"Yaay!" Doris clapped enthusiastically from the doorstep. She did a little jump. Behind her the Andy's smoked their cigarettes, Meri stared with a raised eyebrow, and Tony had his arms crossed, bottom lip protruding in clinical scrutiny.

"And you said I was ruining the moment." Nicholas regarded them peevishly. "A bit of privacy, please?"

"It's not like it's a secret!" Wainwright shouted.

"When's the wedding?" Cartwright demanded. "And who's the bride?"

Nicholas stared incredulously. "Are they…" he turned to Danny."Is it always going to be like this?"

Danny smiled shyly and stepped closer. "No point fussin' now, is there?"

"I suppose not." Nicholas kissed him, and when the Andy's howled criticism neither had the presence of mind to be annoyed.

* * *

It was hard to write—physically and mentally. I hope that it satisfies everyone, though. R&R is appreciated!


	9. Chapter 9

Warning: long-winded medical terms, plot, and a bit of romance.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hot Fuzz. :(

This chapter was also hard to write, but it was a pick-me-up, as well. To my well-wishers, thank you very much! It was nice to have you guys at my six.

NOTE: OPSI (overwhelming post-splenectomy infection) basically means that removal of the spleen compromises your immune system. You're much more vulnerable to opportunistic diseases like the flu and have to get special vaccinations several times each year.

_The Swans Return by Philip Glass _

* * *

_oo9._

* * *

The sun rose over the rooftops and burned away the silver shroud of mist that covered the ground. It was cool and quiet, as was typical for a spring morning in Sandford. Dew glistened on the perfectly mowed lawns and fogged car windows.

Nicholas sat on the front step and watched the light brighten. He picked up his bowl of chicken noodle soup when Danny came out and sat beside him.

"Not supposed to be out," Danny murmured. "Doctor's orders."

"The doctor isn't here," Nicholas replied without venom. He watched a rabbit materialize out of the shadows and hop into Mr. Lead's vegetable garden. "I'm fine. You can stop worrying."

"Lambert explained everythin' to me about your…what's-it-called? Overwhelmin' post…splenectomy infarction." Danny's voice took on Lambert's clinical intonation. "She said the mortality rate is somewhere between forty and seventy percent."

"It's called overwhelming post-splenectomy _infection_. And that's only if you get it."

"You got it."

Nicholas gulped his soup and grimaced. "Danny, I appreciate your concern, but I've been living with this for months now. Frankly, it's a private matter."

"'Til you dropped in the middle of the pub and the Andy's had to drive you to Buford." Danny shook his head. "Ain't seen them so out of sorts since Andy got run down by one of Reaper's dogs."

"I don't need coddling."

Danny stared at the shadows moving across the sidewalk. "Two weeks in the hospital calls for _some_ coddlin'," he said in a soft, rebuking tone that made Nicholas flush. "Sometimes I wonder..." He suddenly lowered his head. "Did I really save your skin or are you just on borrowed time?"

Nicholas froze, spoon between his lips. He frowned and the soul-deep exhaustion of illness flitted across his face. After a moment, he took another spoonful of soup and swallowed thickly. There was a long silence before he spoke again. "Would you like to hear something funny?"

"Hmm." Danny closed his eyes.

"I almost became a Buddhist."

"Really?"

"Janine thought it was a bit silly, but…I don't know." Nicholas watched the surface of his soup glimmer in the light. "This puts things in perspective, doesn't it?"

"Scary when you talk like that."

"Like what?" Nicholas hunched defensively.

"Like you're not gonna make it."

Nicholas finished the last bits of soup. He sighed and set the bowl down by his hip. "Danny, it's a risk that's going to be there for the rest of my life." His eyes sharpened, indigo and suspicious. "If it's too much for you, just say so."

Danny's brows arched. "Can't believe you just said that, man."

"Well, I—"

"Seriously, Nick." Danny got to his feet and opened the door. "I took a _blunderbuss_ for you. And I made you soup."

Nicholas smiled against his will. "It was good soup."

"Ya, I know."

"Alright, first thing's first." Nicholas stood up, authoritative even in a muscle shirt and plaid pyjama bottoms. "You've got to stop saying that. You're turning into a third Andy."

"Oh my _Gawd_." Danny did a dramatic, dandy walk inside. Nicholas laughed and shut the door, and set his empty bowl on the countertop.

"Prat," he said fondly.

Danny's home was cluttered, but nurtured a feeling of closeness. They walked through the small kitchen and sat down by his worn, uneven table. The smell of last night's curry and chips lingered in the air. It reminded Nicholas of the dorms he had lived in after ending things with Janine, but the youthful, haphazard dismissal of order was uniquely _Danny_. He sat down on an old wooden chair and pushed several plates out of the way.

"You need to clean this place," he said out of habit rather than sincerity.

"Ya," Danny grinned, "I know."

Nicholas shook his head. "I'm stuck with that, aren't I?"

"Maybe."

A comfortable silence settled between them. Nicholas studied the hideous wallpaper, frowned at himself and abruptly stood up. "Did you bring any of that paperwork I asked for?"

"No. You ain't ready yet."

"Rubbish." Nicholas shifted uneasily.

"What's really botherin' you?"

"I—what?"

Danny wore a puppyish expression. "You always start fidgetin' when you're thinking about somethin' that makes you nervous. What is it?"

Nicholas sat down awkwardly and licked his lips. "I, ahm. Actually…." He frowned and looked around the room. "I've been thinking—for a while now—that maybe…ahmm."

"You wanna meditate?"

"No! This isn't funny."

"It's a little funny," Danny muttered impishly.

"I'm trying to say something important."

"Well, go on then." Danny raised his brows. "Spit it out."

Nicholas opened his mouth, then clamped it shut. He gazed at his gloves and grimaced, but took them off. His hands were wrapped in wide, lavender scars interspersed with patches of healthy skin. He watched Danny's expression. "I'm not the same person I was before the NWA. I can't do some of the things I used to." He paused, braced himself. "But…but I was hoping, maybe later, maybe…we could start moving some of this stuff." At Danny's blank look, he flushed. "To my place."

"Move in?" Danny asked shyly.

Nicholas swallowed and looked at the table. "Well, yes."

"Isn't that against the rules?"

"Well…yes." Nicholas bowed his head. "It's a risk, but Sandford is so out of the way I'd hoped…."

"Alright," Danny murmured. "So long as you don't wrap me in a bed sheet and stick me on your little Buddha shrine."

"Really? I—" The joke sank in. "Danny, that's terrible."

"Ya, I know."

Nicholas leaned back in his chair and laughed.

* * *

One more chapter to go. Whew!


	10. Chapter 10

Warning: mild swearing, very mild implied sex scene, and romance.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hot Fuzz. :(

I had this chapter done ages ago, but I just didn't want to edit and finish it. I hope everyone enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. I'll miss this. :(

(The very end bit of) _The Hot Fuzz Suite by David Arnold_

* * *

_o10._

* * *

Nicholas silently sat up, head cocked towards the hallway. After a moment, soft, rapid thumping resumed on the front door. He glanced at the clock—6:58 AM—and swung his legs over the side of his bed. He put on his rumpled trousers, slipped out of the bedroom, and crept into the kitchen. Even with curtains drawn, sunlight snuck in and set the pale green walls aglow. He unlocked the door and opened it just enough so two furry little bodies could dart inside. McClain released a grateful _prrt_ and arched against his shin. Bohdi ran to the water dish and slurped noisily.

"Left them out again?" Danny stood in the hallway, rubbing one eye.

"I'm afraid so." Nicholas sauntered over to the kettle, filled it, and turned it on. "Tea?"

"Nah, I think I'm gonna head off today."

"Where?"

Danny shrugged. "Dunno. Just need to get out."

"Ah." Nicholas struggled to open a teabag. The scars had thinned and silvered, but his hands would never be the same. He glanced at Danny and dropped the teabag into an empty cup. "What do you think of the new station?"

Danny sat down on a nearby stool and planted his elbows on the kitchen island. "Bit weird having it near the outskirts and all, but it'll do." He managed a small smile. "Nice that everythin's going back to normal." The kettle whistled and jettisoned a column of steam into the air.

"Yes, it is." Nicholas opened up the fridge, which had been camouflaged as one of the cupboards, and took out a carton of milk. He glanced at Danny. "Are you sure you don't want something?"

"Not hungry."

"All right." Nicholas grasped brown, pre-sliced bread from the cupboard and arranged everything on the kitchen island. He sat down on a stool next Danny, tea in hand, and started eating. He could hear the cats thumping down the hallway, engaged in a furious tussle over a piece of lint. "Look I know," he paused, then amended with, "I've heard that you don't like people coming with you, but would you mind if I tagged along?"

"If you want."

"I'm asking."

Danny speared him with a quick, irritated frown. "Don't matter."

Steam rose in curling tendrils around Nicholas' face. He sipped pensively for a moment, then sighed and put down his tea. Sunlight glinted off his hair and revealed spots that were grey rather than blond.

"I'm not trying to push you, Danny. If you would prefer to do this by yourself…."

"No, it's all right." Danny grasped a slice of bread and ate it without butter. "I'm just…it just puts me in a mood, y'know?"

"I know."

"Dad's in prison, Mum's dead, and with the whole NWA thing…." He winced and drummed his fingers nervously. "Everybody's sorry and I wish they weren't. I wish…I just want to be left alone."

Nicholas hesitated then nodded. "It's always like that." At Danny's enquiring glance, he shrugged. "You try to take things head on, but life doesn't work that way, does it? Life hits you from the side."

"Ya." Danny sighed. "Felt like that when you took on a sea mine?"

"No," Nicholas whispered. "After the mine, when you were lying in the rubble. When you looked right through me."

They sat in silence for a while. The two cats stretched out on the couch and purred. Nicholas got up and opened the curtains, nearly blinded by the early morning light that gushed into the room. He grunted and resumed his seat while Danny laughed. The tension immediately dissolved into the bright complacency of a sunny day. He stole a sip of Nicholas' tea, then a kiss, but couldn't quite disengage. His lips were seeking and reaffirming. Lust pulled them together like magnets.

Somehow, the bed found them. Nicholas gasped when Danny lifted him up and tossed him on the mattress. No one had ever worked up the nerve to attempt it before. He laughed into Danny's ear and coaxed the hem of his boxers off of his hips. It was complicated work since Danny was doing the same to him. His zipper made a slow, metallic purr that filled the room. Nicholas groaned when his trousers were pushed down around his thighs.

"Jesus, Danny."

It was the first and last phrase either of them managed for the better part of an hour. Then time and rational thought resumed, and they were two separate people again. Nicholas stared at the ceiling, mildly aware of the uncomfortable heat in the air and the phone ringing in the main room. He glanced at Danny, who was already showered and dressed. The darkness in his face had lifted.

"I'd like to be alone for a bit," Danny said and donned his jacket. At Nicholas' accepting silence he fiddled with his watch. "But after…I wouldn't mind if you came." He quickly walked down the stairs, and the front door opened and closed with a faint click.

Blocks of sunlight slowly crossed the floor. Nicholas sat up and surveyed his room, which had been immaculate before breakfast. He got out of bed for the second time that morning, put on the pair of pants Danny had tossed over his shoulder, and walked into the main room. Without a mobile, he had been reduced to a landline, which cost a fortune. He dialled the station and Tony's extension.

"Inspector Fisher."

"Hello Tony."

"Oi! You're late, Nick." He sounded mildly amused. "Danny keepin' you busy I s'ppose?"

Nicholas fiddled with a nearby pen. "I have a favour to ask."

"Sure."

"I need you to cover for me."

"You need _what_?"

"I won't be in until later." When stunned silence met his declaration, he sighed. "It's his mum's anniversary. I'm…going to meet him at the church."

Tony's squint could be felt across the phone. "He don't let anybody go with him. Must have done somethin' right, Nick."

"I hope so."

"Ya, don't mind. I saw where you put the paperwork, I'll get on it. But you owe me a pint."

Nicholas smiled. "Yes I do," he said warmly. "I…ah, thanks."

"No problem." Tony hung up without warning, as was his tendency.

Nicholas put the phone down and regarded his kitchen, which was littered with bread crumbs, dirty spoons, and cups of cold tea. He sighed and went about cleaning it up, then went into his room and took his sheets off the bed. His cottage had the newest appliances, including a washer-dryer that had baffled Nicholas and Danny for days. He set it to what he hoped was the right cycle, but didn't turn it on. Instead, he went into the bathroom and had a long shower.

After he had dressed and shaved, Nicholas went back into kitchen and turned on the washer-dryer. He watched for a moment and was relieved when suds appeared. Its hum was pleasant and monotonous—the sound of a home.

"Alright, you pair. Be good." Nicholas spotted his gloves and put them on, lifted his sunglasses off the table, and headed towards the door. Neither cat deigned to lift its head as he walked outside. He paused on his front step and studied the small garden. Several bees performed acrobatics among the blooms, and the breeze smelled earthy and a little sweet.

Nicholas slipped into the car. The engine started with a growl and rumbled amicably under his fingertips. He could feel the vibrations through the steering wheel. He smiled at such a small, unexpected victory, and put the car into first gear. The drive was uneventful and short. He had to pass through the main square, but it was a lovely Sunday afternoon and most of the traffic was in the form of pedestrians and bicycles. Almost everyone there waved at him, and he spent half the trip waving back.

Mrs. Fletcher stood outside the reopened Leslie's Garden. Nicholas pulled right up to the curb and parked illegally on the corner. She met him on the sidewalk, her elderly face creased by concern. "Hello," she said with uncharacteristic solemnity.

"Hello, Florance." He took the bouquet out of her hands. "Thank you, I know it's your day off. How much do I owe?"

She waved her hand. "Not a thing, Inspector. I'm just glad Danny has some company today. It's not a time to be alone, is it?"

Nicholas' face eased. "No, it isn't." He turned back towards his car, but Mrs. Fletcher's voice stopped him.

"You take care of that boy." Her voice thrummed with disapproval. "He hasn't got anybody else."

He nodded and watched her thin frame disappear into her shop. Another round of greetings caught him off guard, and he walked back to his car muttering pleasantries. The drive resumed with its interior filled with a subtle perfume.

The church property exuded a bright, green calm. Insects darted back and forth like golden motes of dust. Nicholas parked and took a moment to survey everything. It was like the NWA had never existed. He stepped out of the car and walked across the groomed cemetery lawn, limp nearly imperceptible. He unfolded his glasses and slipped them on. Danny wasn't near a grave, but perched on the stone wall. He looked lost in thought.

Nicholas took a deep breath, but didn't alter his pace. Danny spotted him, hand over his eyes, expression hidden by its shadow. He slid off the wall and started walking, head bowed. They met in the centre of the cemetery, at a headstone that read Irene Butterman.

* * *

**_End._**

* * *


End file.
